


Overdue

by StarryDreamer



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Matchmaking, Sci-Ops Era (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 10:23:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8245624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryDreamer/pseuds/StarryDreamer
Summary: Fitz believed that keeping his books past their due date was the best way to get Jemma Simmons to speak to him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm under the weather and it's a long weekend, so I thought I'd add in another transfer from FFN. I didn't remember how I came by this idea, but according to my notations at FFN, the story came to me after reading an article about a librarian who'd found a note in a book that had been borrowed.

 

He’s not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the line he’d memorized her work schedule.  Maybe it had been when she’d looked his way in Chemistry class, her eyes wide with what he supposed was shock.  He had after all, dared to challenge their professor’s insistence that the dendrotoxin emission spectrum couldn’t be raised high enough to create instant paralysis.  Or perhaps it was when she’d called out his name as he’d passed through the library’s turnstile and reminded him that his book on the Bose-Einstein Condensate was overdue.  It had been the first time she’d ever spoken to him and he’d been so stunned to realize that she not only knew his name but what he was reading, that he couldn’t even muster a reply before she brought her fingers to her hair and looked away.  

Regardless, Leo Fitz was a bit head over heels for Jemma Simmons.  

He was a genius and it wasn’t particularly difficult to figure out when she worked the Sci-Tech Library’s circulation desk.  It was simple deduction.  He knew that she had been assigned to the East Wing Labs as every day after class, without fail, she’d race off in its direction.  He could only imagine that she wanted to get a head start on the next day’s homework; she was, of course, the smartest in the class.  When he started to notice Jemma organizing the book returns behind the circulation desk on Monday and Friday evenings, he figured the labs must’ve closed early for cleaning on those days.  

“‘Evening Fitz,” she said cheerfully as he walked through the turnstile.

“Si-Simmons,” he stammered in reply, his face reddening.

“Your book on the Casimir Effect is overdue.”

“Right,” he replied, unable to meet her gaze.  “I’ll return it on my way out.”

She smiled brightly.  “You better!  Would hate to see you get a big fine.”

It was as though his brain short circuited.  He bowed his head and muttered his thanks, unsure of what more he could say and silently cursed himself for failing to think of something wittier.  Again.

“Why don’t you just write her a letter?” His roommate, Mack, suggested later that night as he stabbed a piece of steak with his fork and brought it to his mouth.  

“A letter?”  Fitz repeated, a mixture of horror and confusion crossing his face.  “Are you reading Jane Austen novels again?”

Mack chuckled, his booming voice filling the apartment.  “I just mean that you should write down how you feel.  Maybe it will help you the next time you see her.  I’ve seen you in action, man.  You’re a bundle of nerves.”

Fitz huffed indignantly.  “That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe.  But it’s no less ridiculous than always keeping your books until they’re overdue so that she’ll talk to you.”

“I do no such thing.”

Mack simply raised an eyebrow and scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes.  “Whatever you say, Turbo.”

Mack’s suggestion weighed heavily on Fitz’s mind.  He knew categorically he would never have the courage to give Jemma a letter that even remotely revealed his feelings for her.  He’d be mortified to his very core if she knew the reason behind his trips to the library.  But maybe there was some truth to Mack’s suggestion. Perhaps if he did put it all to paper it wouldn’t be so hard to muster even a complete sentence in her presence.  

When Jemma stopped him on his way into the library to remind him that a book he’d recently taken out on CTC Wormholes was overdue and he’d floundered as per usual, he knew he had to take action.

That night Fitz sat on the living room sofa and on the back of several old Physics handouts, he penned his missive.  He wrote everything he’d been feeling since the day he’d first seen her in class.  He explained that her smile stole not only his words but the very breath from his chest.  He detailed how desperately he wanted to work with her on figuring out ways to prove their professor wrong about the limitless potential of dendrotoxin to field agents.  And finally, he explained his very reason for being at the library every Monday and Friday from the hours of 4 to 8 and how he wanted more than anything to take her on a date to the nearby Italian restaurant for spag bol.

He frowned and crossed out  _ spag bol _ , replacing it with  _ spaghetti bolognese _ .  Fitz smiled.  It even  _ looked _ classier.  Not that she’d ever see it.

_ Over his dead body. _

When it was all completed, he breathed a sigh of relief and folded the letter up, readying it for the rubbish bin when a voice called out from behind him, startling him to the core.

“Hey Fitz!”  It was Bobbi Morse, Mack’s friend and occasional sparring partner.  “Whatcha up to?” She asked as she rounded the corner and made her way to the kitchen, an empty glass in hand.

“Nothing,” he replied sounding completely guilty and not at all inconspicuous.  He quickly stuffed the letter into the cover of the book he’d used as a makeshift desk while Bobbi’s back was turned.

“You know I’m training to be a spy, right?” She said, bringing the newly filled glass of water to her lips and raising her eyebrows.

Fitz shrugged.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied as innocently as possible.

She shook her head, her lips pulling with a strange sort of smile that he couldn’t quite read.  

Flustered, Fitz tossed the book onto the nearby end table and quickly made his way to his room, silently wishing that his roommate would make friends with people who  _ weren’t _ spies-in-training.

The days between Monday and Friday seemed to move faster than he’d even realized.  Their professors had, in some odd twist of fate, managed to line up each course’s tests, labs and assignments and Fitz had barely managed to see the light of day.  Thankfully, by Friday he felt a sense of relief; he would get to see Jemma at the library when he returned his overdue book.

“Mack?” He called out into the apartment, his heart beating a little too quickly and anxiously.  

“Yeah?” Mack replied, his head poking out from the doorway of his bedroom.

“Have you seen my book?” He swallowed thickly, his eyes scanning the living room for the hundredth time as he turned over a sofa cushion.  “You know the one on Quantum Decoherence?”

“The overdue one?”

“Ye-yes.”   _ How did he-- _

Mack stepped more fully into the hallway.  “Bobbi took it this morning.  She saw that it was overdue and said she was going to the library anyway so she offered to return it for you.  I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Fitz’s eyes grew wide with horror; it felt as though his heart had come to a complete stop in his chest.  “She did what?”

Mack’s eyebrow rose.  “It was overdue.”

“I know!”

“Then why are you getting upset?”

“I’m not upset!” He cried out, tossing the seat cushion to the floor as he grabbed his jacket from the coat rack and unlatched the front door.

“If you’re not upset then why are you--”

Fitz didn’t hear the rest of what Mack had to say as he slammed the door behind him and raced from the building.  He prayed to whatever Asgardian he could think of that Jemma wouldn’t be the one to have checked in his book, that it had just been shelved and his letter was just where he’d left it, untouched.

When he pushed his way through the glass doors of the library, he was a sweaty and out of breath mess. So of course the first person he’d see would be Jemma Simmons.  

_ Of all people! _

“Fitz!” She declared, stepping out from behind the desk. “Are you okay?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it just as quickly and swallowed back the question he wanted to ask.

“H-hi,” he said instead, his face ashen with fear.  “How’s everything? Everything…” He gulped.  “Good?”

She ducked her head and brought her fingers to her hair.  Fitz held his breath, waiting for her answer.  Afraid that at any moment she’d put an end to the glimmer of hope that he’d held valiantly on to.

“Yeah,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes.  “You don’t have any books overdue for once!”  She chuckled lightly.  “I was quite looking forward to--”

“A friend returned the last one,” he interjected. “I wasn’t finished with it.  Is it--” He motioned over his shoulder toward the stacks.  “On the shelf?”

She cocked her head to the side.  “A friend?”

“Yeah.  I wasn’t quite-- she took it and…” He wrung his hands nervously and tried to figure out a way to explain it without  _ explaining it _ .  

“She?”

“Yeah,” he shook his head.   _ So not the point.   _ “I just-- the book…”

Jemma blushed.  “I shelved it earlier.  It should be--”

“Great, thanks,” he said, a little too abruptly even for his own ears. But he needed to get to that book.

He rushed from the desk and toward the stacks, letting his feet take him to the corner of the library where the Physics reference books were kept.  He swallowed dryly and ran his finger along the spine of each of the books, seeking out the one on Quantum Decoherence. When he found it, he held his breath as he pulled it from the shelf and opened the cover.

There was nothing there.  

He flipped through the pages.

Still nothing.

He held the book so that the pages fell open loosely, facing the floor.

Nothing.

His heart sunk and his mind rationalized a million different excuses.  Maybe Bobbi had it... maybe another librarian had found it and tossed it away with the rubbish… maybe Jemma had never even seen after all… maybe--

“Fitz?”

He turned, startled to find Jemma standing next to him.  “Jemma!”

She blushed and looked down at her hands.  It was then that he noticed what she held between her fingers.

He sucked in a sharp breath and tried to as calmly as possible return the book to the shelf.  His hand shook, giving him away.

“I think you’re looking for this?” She offered hesitantly.  “Maybe?”  She held out the folded papers, Physics equations staring up at him.  

He nodded slowly, unable to speak, embarrassment rocking him to the core.  He took the papers from her and almost immediately crushed the betraying words with his fist.  

“No!” She cried out, her voice a little too loud for the library and she blushed a deeper shade of red.  “Don’t!” She whispered with urgency, looking quickly over her shoulder.

“Wh-why?”

Jemma pulled the papers from his fist and gently pressed them between her own hands, attempting to iron out the creases.

She sighed lightly, her breath fanning his cheek. “Didn't you ever wonder why, in spite of always handing in your books late, you never had a fine to pay?”

He stared at her in disbelief, his mouth wide with confusion.

She shrugged and hugged the papers against her chest.  “You always take out a reference book on Mondays.  There’s a 24 hour turnaround on them, yet you always wait until Friday to return them.  The library fines you a dollar per day that its late.”

“Did you want me to pay my fines…?” He asked dimly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No!” She declared with a pronounced, shaky laugh.  “Don't be ridiculous, Fitz!  Didn’t you ever wonder why no one ever made you pay your fines?”

He shook his head slowly, not really understanding the point she was making and wanting desperately to take back those papers.

She looked quickly over her shoulder again and leaned forward.  “I deleted the fines, Fitz!”

“But-- but why?”

Her gaze fell to the floor and her face blazed anew.  “Maybe--” She paused and then cleared her throat.  “Maybe I requested to work specially on Mondays and Fridays.”

He blinked with confusion.  “What--?”

"You always come in on Mondays and Fridays."

"I don’t--"

She offered him a small, knowing smile which silenced him and shrugged her shoulder. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind going out for some spag bol…”  

Fitz straightened, certain he’d misheard.  “Wait--  _ what? _ ”

Jemma rolled her eyes and shook her head, a small chuckle escaping.  “I get off at eight,” she said.  “But I think you know that already,” she added teasingly, motioning to the papers she still held on to.

He nodded, not quite understanding what was happening, the tips of his fingers picking at the spine of the book that sat on a shelf next to him.

“Can I keep this?” She asked, holding out his letter.

“Ye-yeah,” he stammered, his head nodding a little too quickly.  “I mean-- I guess that would be--”

“Okay.”  She grinned widely and turned to walk away.  Just as she was about to round the corner and exit the stacks, she pivoted on her heel and rushed back toward him. Before he could even register what she was doing, her hand found its way to his shoulder and in less than a second her lips were upon his.

He savoured her; she was soft against his skin and she smelled a bit like vanilla icing.  Just as he’d managed to build up his courage and allow his hand to move toward her hip, she backed away shyly, the entire experience over far too quickly.

“I should get back to work.” Her fingers threaded carefully through the hair by her ear.

He nodded, wishing he could just say something, anything.

And then--

“So eight, then?  I’ll figure out a place?”

She hugged his letter tighter against her chest and nodded quickly before she turned and rushed from the stacks, heading back toward the circulation desk.

…

When Mack opened the door to the apartment, the last person he expected to find on his doorstep was Bobbi.  

“I thought you were going to the gym to train tonight.”

“I blame you for this,” she said, ignoring his comment and pushing her way into the apartment.

“What did I do now?”

“My staves are in my apartment,” she noted, collapsing onto the sofa.  “You know I can’t use the ones they keep at the gym.”

“So...?”

“Our roommates are blocking my door.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  “ _ Our _ roommates?”

She rolled her eyes.  “Returning that book was your idea and now I can’t even get into my own apartment.”

His eyes widened.  “Oh!”  

Bobbi nodded, her face impassive.  “Yeah.”

“ _ Our _ roommates!”

She nodded again.

“They’re--?”

She sighed, resigned, and reached for the remote.  “All up against the front door.”

Mack made a face and pulled his cell from his pocket.  “So pizza’s on me then?”

“For the next month,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder.  “It’s going to take about that long for me to unsee what I’ve just seen.”

His hand rubbed at his jaw.  “Okay,” he said slowly, nodding his head in agreement.  “Month it is then.”  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
